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Erie ultrarunner breaks record for fastest known time on Colorado Trail

By Amelia Arvesen

Staff Writer

Posted:
09/16/2017 09:00:00 AM MDT

Updated:
09/16/2017 10:12:50 PM MDT

Ultrarunner Bryan Williams, who is the general manager of AOV Inc. in Boulder, set the supported record for the 490-mile Colorado Trail with the fastest known time of eight days and 30 minutes. "Running can be very meditative. It's something I've developed a passion for, something I always look forward to. It's my daily dose of adventure." (Paul Aiken / Staff Photographer)

Bryan Williams runs ahead of Eric Truhe at Hotel Draw, 42 miles into the Colorado Trail. Truhe ran with Williams for about 200 miles until reaching the first aid station of the day at Sargents Mesa on the fourth day of Williams' eight-day journey. (Courtesy photo)

It isn't typical of Bryan Williams to devour Snickers candy bars or jog in his skivvies. But it also isn't typical to hear of someone running the 490-mile Colorado Trail in record time, like he did.

The 42-year-old Erie endurance runner crushed the supported record for the fastest known time, or FKT, running the Colorado Trail on his own in eight days and 30 minutes. He started at 5 a.m. Aug. 26 in Durango and finished at 5:30 a.m. Sept. 3 in Denver.

"To jump to a 500-mile project was pretty huge," Williams said Monday after returning to work as the general manager of AOV Inc. in Boulder. "A lot of people have asked, 'Well, how did you prepare training for that?' and I can answer that quickly, but it's like, man, I don't know. I think we just got lucky."

Williams and his crew shaved off seven hours from the last supported record held by Scott Jaime, of Highlands Ranch — a professional runner Williams said he admires — who set it in 2013 at eight days, seven hours, 40 minutes, according to records.

The trail traverses the Continental Divide in Colorado, with backcountry lakes and creeks, six wilderness areas and eight mountain ranges topping out at 13,271 feet, according to the trail's website. Travelers include hikers, horseback riders, mountain bikers and long-distance runners.

"It's amazing all the things people are doing out there," Williams said. "This is just one little piece, one state."

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Seven years ago, Williams committed to his first full marathon — 26.2 miles. He said he was seeking change — going through a divorce and becoming a single dad, struggling with weight, living with his parents and facing debt — and rather than buying a ski pass, he decided to save money by running instead.

"In the early stages of running, it was the only thing I felt like I had control over," he said. " ... Running can be very meditative. It's something I've developed a passion for, something I always look forward to. It's my daily dose of adventure."

Among those adventures, he said he has run nine 100-mile races and 21 other ultra races, not to mention the hours and mileage as part of training for each.

How it started

At 5 a.m. Aug. 26, Williams and Lafayette ultrarunner Eric Truhe took their first strides on the southern terminus of the familiar trail, with 56 miles to go before they could stop moving for the first day.

In 2015, Truhe — who had been running sections of the Colorado Trail for two years already — invited Williams to participate, so they started exploring chunks of the trail together on weekends and conceived the goal of finishing the trail in one go.

"I just packed up my duffel bag and said, 'Let's go,'" Williams said. "(Truhe and his father) had everything planned. And so not until this year then did it really become kind of a dream of my own then."

Last August, during a multi-day training weekend, they set their first record. They ran the 165-mile Collegiate Peaks loop — a section in the middle of the route that used to only deviate to the east, but now has a newer route to the west — in 62 hours, 47 minutes.

Day by day on the Colorado Trail

Day 1, Aug. 26:

56 miles from Durango's Junction Creek trailhead to Bolam Pass

Bryan Williams videotaped interviews with people they'd pass on the Colorado Trail, but after a handful of stops started slowing them down, Eric Truhe urged him to trek on. Then, about an hour from the end of the day, they took the wrong turn and were set back about 30 minutes.

Day 2, Aug. 27:

54 miles from Bolam Pass to Carson Saddle

During the night, a bear apparently was hungry for the food inside Truhe's vehicle. Muddy paw prints were found all over the outside, Truhe said.

Day 3, Aug. 28:

59 miles from Carson Saddle to Saguache Park Road

Truhe recalls feeling positive throughout running with Williams, though Truhe experienced increasing pain in his shin caused by an injury to a toe six days before the start of the project.

Day 4, Aug. 29:

60 miles from Saguache Park Road to Monarch Pass

The team decides Williams and Truhe should run separately, as Williams would fall behind Truhe on the descents and gain on him during the climbs. At Sargents Mesa, Truhe chooses to drop out.

Day 5, Aug. 30:

64 miles from Monarch Pass to Winfield

This day marks the start of the second half of Williams' fight to the end. He said it was his darkest day because he was feeling emotionally broken and lonely, missing Truhe and his family. Challenges along the way include extreme temperature variances and running in the dark in his underwear.

Day 6, Aug. 31:

54 miles from Winfield to Tennessee Pass

Ultrarunning coach Cindy Stonesmith and longtime friend Bryan Boots meet up with Williams around Turquoise Lake to pace him the rest of the way.

Day 7, Sept. 1:

54 miles from Tennessee Pass to Tiger Road

Professional runner Scott Jaime, the previous supported record holder, surprised Williams at the trail and ran about 15 miles with him from Kenosha Pass to Long Gulch.

Day 8, Sept. 2:

89 miles from Tiger Road to Waterton, in south Denver

What Williams didn't want was to put in the most mileage on the last day. But he did. His team told him he needed to finish the 89 miles in 29 hours to meet the record. He was behind, but as a seasoned ultrarunner, he knew he could run 100 miles in 24 hours. He finished in 24 hours, 15 minutes in the dark at 5:30 a.m. Sept. 3.

Aerial maps of every piece of the trail, coordinates of possible aid station stops along the treacherous terrain, the number of calories the runners anticipated consuming and other spreadsheets were stored in a three-ring binder compiled by Truhe's father, Marv Truhe.

While the runners moved forward that Saturday, the crew maneuvered two vehicles to the first aid station about 21 miles from the start at the Kennebec Trailhead, maps show.

"Dozens and dozens and dozens of things could go wrong ... but it just all worked," said Shires, who provided his Jeep Rubicon and logistics background.

Williams and Eric Truhe — who would drop out halfway through due to an injury — said their job was easy compared to what the crew endured, such as anticipating their pace, delivering food and ensuring the runners had what they needed.

"It really was a team effort," Truhe said. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for the amazing crew we had of friends that were out there every day for us that would give us support."

Unraveling plans

On most nights, the runners and the crew members slept for three hours — four if they were lucky. And by the first day, Williams said, he was in a caloric deficit because some of the nutrition bars he had packed into quart-sized bags for each stretch were too dense for him to swallow.

Williams said every morning, he'd nibble away at two ProBars made of nuts, fruits, vegetables and other real foods. He said energy gels and Boulder-brand Justin's nut butter squeeze packs went down much smoother.

"As well planned as I wanted to be, you just don't know where your appetite's going to be and some of these things I just couldn't do anymore," he said.

He also said the team started surprising him with burgers and sweet potato fries, and even brought him Snickers candy bars, which he hadn't eaten in years. One of Williams' favorite meals was a tortilla filled with guacamole.

"Smear that on, crunch up potato chips and roll that up in a burrito, like an avocado potato chip tortilla rollup," he said. "It was just that was one of those things that just tasted really good out there. In some of these burritos though, they would warm up steak and potatoes and put that in a burrito for me."

But despite their attention to details, plans unraveled.

"You don't know in what form or when or where, but you're going to deal with something that's least expected," Williams said. "And in a race situation, there usually can be a 50 percent drop rate because things just happen to people and I'm one of those people."

Williams and Truhe had been set back by time and mileage each day, but they chipped away step by step. On the fourth day, they decided to separate.

Williams said he was faster on the climbs and flat stretches, while Truhe gained on him during the downhills. Williams felt pain in his knee, and an injury to Truhe's toe caused increasing pain in his shin.

About 200 miles in, Truhe called it quits when he reached the first aid station of the day at Sargents Mesa. Williams said he was already ahead and didn't find out until about 15 miles later at Marshall Pass.

"That's how it goes," Truhe said.

He said for the time he ran with Williams, he exuded positivity. He said even though the opportunity is available, he doesn't plan on trying it on his own.

"The way I see it, it was a success," Truhe said.

The darkest day

As Williams carried himself up and down mountains taller than 13,000 feet, his mind wandered to highs and lows.

Day five was the worst, he said.

"I would run and just uncontrollably start crying out there," Williams said.

A deep loneliness set in, he said, when it hit him that Truhe was no longer on the trail with him. He also said he thought a lot about his friends, family and daughter newly in college.

"Part of what I learned about myself is how important friends and family are for that emotional stability, that emotional boost," he said.

Still behind, he knew all day that he would have to push himself through the night to get ahead and make it to the sixth day. The little things, such as thinking of seeing the crew or clinging to faith the size of a mustard seed, kept him going.

At the stop between Cottonwood Pass and Winfield, his crew sensed his decreasing stability and clothed him with long sleeves and pants. His race attire up until then had been shorts, a T-shirt, arm warmers, a vest, some gloves and a beanie. But those extra layers soon came off, including his pants, as he descended from an altitude of 12,500 feet to about 10,000 feet.

"I'm just thinking, what's someone gonna think if they see me running in the middle of the night like some madman who hasn't slept in days and running in his underwear and T-shirt, like where are you going? Oh, I'm running to Denver," Williams said.

"This is not normal for me. But I don't have what I normally do and I'm trying to manage my core temp and I think a lot of it out there, you're just trying to make your mind or body happy somehow with little things."

The clothing saga continued. He ran through a calf-deep creek, caught the shivers again and tied his long sleeves around his waist like a loincloth. Then, he finally stopped to re-clothe himself with the garments in the proper places.

Williams said he finished out the toughest day running the final 3 miles with his girlfriend, Emily Booth.

'Go for it'

The next day, Stonesmith and Boots rotated pacing Williams. He said his spirits soared and he picked up his pace faster than anticipated.

"Every single day, he brought everything he had to the table and it was pretty amazing with two or three hours of sleep how motivated and intent and committed he was to getting on the trail and getting the work done," said Stonesmith, who has been his coach since he started running seven years ago.

Williams said he hallucinated that the knots of trees were eyes and the rocks in puddles were eyeballs, all watching him. It kept his mind from focusing on the pounding of his feet and the extension of his muscles.

"Nothing was scary," he said. "I was genuinely scared and paranoid after Cottonwood Pass, but this was a perception that I wasn't alone. The mountains, the trees, the rocks — they're always present out there. This is their land and their space and we're just passerbys in a moment of time."

Jaime surprised him on the seventh day at Kenosha Pass near Grant and ran about 15 miles with him to Long Gulch.

"That just meant so much to me," Williams said. "It was kind of that boost of energy. I don't think my pace changed that much, but spirits for sure. He was just really cool because he was already congratulating us on a new record."

On the morning of the last day, the crew told Williams he'd need to run 89 miles in 29 hours to hit Jaime's record. Williams ran it in 24 hours, 15 minutes.

Friends accompanied him the last 6 miles in the dark.

Time didn't move fast enough and mileage was at a snail's pace, he said. But finally, the sign marking the end was illuminated by headlamps. And he felt sentimental and sore.

"I remember saying, 'I think I want to sit down now,'" he said.

Since the race against the clock, Williams has come to terms with what he and his team accomplished. He hasn't laced up his running shoes, instead going to his girlfriend's spin classes, biking to work and getting massages. He said his next run will be next week, and just maybe he'll sign up for a race in a month or so.

"We're all looking for something inspiring, I guess, but if it could give (others) strength to know no matter how bad it is, you can get through it or not being afraid to set some big hefty, lofty goals for yourself," Williams said.

"Because I think it's great to be able to dream and go for it and even leading into this, there were people saying, 'Oh man, you think you can do that?' I'm like, 'I don't know.'"

Bryan Williams, right, talks to Eric Truhe as they take a break at Kennebec Pass. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for the amazing crew we had of friends that were out there every day for us that would give us support," Truhe said. (Courtesy photo)

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